


Elysium

by supermega



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, set in their college years, they're stupidly in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24296884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supermega/pseuds/supermega
Summary: He could fully never express how he found safety in the mole that sat at the very center of her manubrium, how his balance came from the delicate way she traced her nails along his scalp, the hidden peace he felt in the smell of her perfume mingling with her sweat. He couldn’t describe the comfort he took in the knowledge that her favorite scent was called Elysium.or; Jonathan Sims loves his girlfriend a whole lot.
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	Elysium

**Author's Note:**

> i'm going to fill up the entire jongeorgie ao3 tag or so help me god

After three years, Jon had come to find comfort in waking up with his nose smashed into the dip of Georgie’s collarbone. It was strange, and it didn’t really make sense, but it was true. Jon just never felt safer than when he was nearly suffocating himself with her clavicle.

He’d tried to write a song about it, once. Up until then he’d been moderately successful at encoding his emotions and slipping them into steampunk sea shanties that could be performed on a stage. It was cathartic, and he’d reached a point a couple years ago where he was sure that he needed to similarly express all that he felt for Georgie Barker. Affection was still far too strange for him to process.

(Sometimes affection was still too strange for him to process, too big and bright. Sometimes Georgie felt the same, which was nice. Sometimes they spent whole nights on opposite ends of the couch with only their pinkies intertwined between them and felt mutually satisfied. Neither of them knew why.)

But metaphorical eldritch horrors, he’d found, were infinitely easier to describe than the bone-deep safety he felt lying there. He had a theory that it was because the most scary monsters dealt in the absence of minutiae. That absence was key—it was generally much easier to not specify than it was to delve into all the nitty gritty details. For example, were he to describe Cthulhu in any terms more specific than “big tentacle-y thing of unfathomable power”, he would lose the element of cosmic terror that completed the beast. There is nothing more terrifying than that which is not known.

Logistically speaking, then, it stood to reason that _comfort_ would be found in the reverse. The _known._ For example, all of the millions of little details regarding being wrapped up in his girlfriend's arms that made his toes curl. He could fully never express how he found safety in the mole that sat at the very center of her manubrium, how his balance came from the delicate way she traced her nails along his scalp, the hidden peace he felt in the smell of her perfume mingling with her sweat. He couldn’t describe the comfort he took in the knowledge that her favorite scent was called _Elysium_.

Elysium.

Elysium.

Elysium.

Elysium like heaven, Elysium like resting your weary bones, Elysium like perfect happiness. How could Jon even begin to analyze how he felt about that? How could he possibly whittle the whole of his love for Georgie Barker down into all of the fine points that made it what it was? He knew his hands were far too clumsy for the task, that their trembling awe would prove too imprecise.

So he didn’t try. 

Instead, he pushed his soliloquies from his mind and tightened his arms around Georgie’s middle, indignantly shoving his face further into her chest. He felt the vibration of her soft chuckle in response and smiled, happily turning his head upwards at her soft tug to the back of his head. 

“Good _morning_ , Sleeping Beauty,” she grinned, smoothing her hand down over his rumpled hair. “You alright?”

“S’morning already…?” He mumbled in a sleepy reply, turning his head to press his lips into her wrist.

“Sort of. It’s, um...” she squinted over Jon’s head at whatever device had been previously occupying her attention, “4:47 AM.” 

They were both very aware of the alarm they had set for 7:30 PM with the express intention of preventing their exact current situation.

“Hmm,” Jon mused. “We overslept.”

“Indeed.”

They managed a couple seconds of shared stoicism before they simultaneously burst into fits of soft, breathy laughter, only muffled once Georgie took Jon’s face in her hands and pressed their smiling lips together. Kissing Georgie was always beyond simile and metaphor, but it felt most abstract when it was occasionally broken by toothy grins and soft sighs. Jon blossomed into the buzz of Georgie’s laughter in his teeth.

He had not enjoyed kissing before meeting Georgie.

Before Georgie, kissing had apparently had a set of rules that he had never been made privy to. He was meant to somehow know how to do it better than he did, was meant to just instinctively know where to put his tongue and how to tilt his head and what his hands should be doing. Besides all that, he was meant to enjoy the intrusion, the breach into his personal space, without question. It was all just… gross. It felt very _gross._

Georgie didn’t feel gross, though. Georgie felt like a key in a lock, a set of balanced scales, a game where neither of them had to lose. Georgie hadn’t poked fun or teased about Jon’s hesitance to close the gap between them. Georgie had looped her arms around Jon’s neck in the third week of their first year at uni and kissed him senseless after a very long preceding discussion about boundaries, and Jon had absolutely melted. 

Maybe he just found her careful respect and consideration hot. He wasn’t exactly sure on that one.

Whatever the reason, kissing Georgie quickly became one of Jon’s favorite activities. He loved how it felt, loved the easy proximity it encouraged, and especially loved the person he was kissing. He didn’t feel any differently in the sleepy AM hours with one of Georgie’s hands absentmindedly threading through his hair and the shrill sound of birdsong outside.

Besides the birds, though, he heard the occasional growls coming from both of their stomachs. He himself wasn’t very concerned with eating, but he certainly wanted Georgie to be well-fed. He worried about—well, he worried about a lot of things, but particularly Georgie’s health. They both had a tendency to skip meals in lieu of things that felt more important, and they were both always prepared to step in and rectify that habit if the other didn’t notice it first. Jon could spend days without eating a full meal without a second thought, but he’d be damned if he’d let Georgie do the same, and the inverse was true for Georgie. 

Against all odds, and after a few minutes of half-hearted attempts that only ended in him becoming further wrapped up in Georgie’s arms, Jon managed to disentangle himself from his girlfriend’s warm embrace. He twined their fingers together as he climbed out of her cozy bed (a full-size mattress piled high with quilts on a rickety old frame she’d hauled home from the dump one day), pulling her with him and smiling at her emphatic groan.

“ _Jonathan_ ,” she whined, going limp against the mattress and giggling into the sheets as he made a weak attempt to drag her off the bed. “I haven’t even had the chance to stretch yet!”

“You’ve been awake for longer than I have, _Georgina!_ ” He laughed before he suddenly moved his hands to her calve and tugged, sending them both tumbling to the floor. 

The impromptu tickle fight that followed was ruthless, and ended with Jon on his back doing his best to tap out through his laughter and Georgie leaving kiss marks from the previous day’s lipstick all over his face.

A desperately called truce carried them out of the bedroom and down the dark hallway to Georgie’s cramped little kitchenette where they fell into a familiar post-nap routine—Jon rummaging in the cabinets for Georgie’s shiny copper kettle, Georgie digging out a pack of frozen Tesco mozzarella sticks—to the tune of the old radio that perpetually sang on the counter. The rhythm of their familiarity carried them through the steps of an easy dance they both knew by heart, moving around each other like water. Jon could’ve sworn his heart was already full to bursting, but it somehow managed to make room for the thrill he felt when Georgie stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Just because she could.

They eventually settled down at the (splintering, paint-splattered) kitchen table with two mugs of tea and twelve steaming mozzarella sticks between them. Jon reached out and placed his hand on top of Georgie’s on the table, smiling across at her when she turned her palm upwards to meet his. She gave him a tired grin and he’d never been more in love. 

Today they ate with their palms pressed together, laughing and talking about classes and papers and nothing in particular as the sun rose outside the dirty window above the sink and warmed their cheeks like heaven, like resting their weary bones, like perfect happiness. Today they didn’t leave the table, even after their mozzarella sticks were gone and their butts had long since fallen asleep in their seats. Today Georgie didn’t let go of Jon’s hand, and Jon spent his morning memorizing a thousand more miniscule details that he’d never be able to put into words.

Today Jon found Elysium, and it looked a lot like the gentle curve of Georgie’s sleepy smile.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @overmega and on twitter at @ultramegaart where i will be happy to talk about tma w/you ad nauseam


End file.
